


those of us who cannot leave

by giacomo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), F/F, Fantasy, Intrigue, Magic Made Them Do It, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giacomo/pseuds/giacomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this a blessing? Or is it a curse? This being unable to die."</p><p>Carmen cannot die until she secures a "just end" for her clan — which means her life since birth has been an ongoing process of killing those who betrayed and wronged her family. Now, so close to the full annihilation of her enemies, can she excuse killing an innocent person to free herself from her own immortality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_If people go either to heaven or hell after they die, then I must be one of those who'll fall to hell._

_Even if that's the case, the idea of living forever makes me sick._

_Most people I come across waste so much energy desperately clinging to life. And here I am, spending every day desperately seeking the right to die — even if that means going so far as stealing the lives of others._

_That's why I'm sure when the time comes, I'll end up in hell._

_Once I become able to die, that is._

 

* * *

 

Wills was late that morning. Again. The shadow cast from the small window hole at the top of the earthen room had already flung itself as far as the desk table. It must've been well past noon. When Carmen was small she would worry over each minute Wills was absent, and her heart would beat in her throat at every sound she heard beyond the door. Back then she had taken to scratching little pictures into the walls to calm herself, until finally Wills gave her a sound beating for blunting a perfectly good dagger on such a pointless, idle hobby.

She had stopped with the drawing after that. Wills knew best. He was her only ally. _Besides_ , she thought as her eyes drifted across her old scribbles on the walls, _I was a shit artist anyway_.

And she didn't worry now like she used to back then. Things were calmer now. Even if some poor soul were to lose their way in the wine cellar and accidentally stumble past that one rack, into the hall with this little room, they wouldn't have the slightest inkling of who was living in it. But Wills said it was still safer, so here she was.

A staccato rapping at Carmen's door announced his return. She didn't bother checking the peep hole, just swung the door right open. As expected, there Wills stood, stiff and scrawny, the stubble on his chin too scruffy for the silken sheen of his burgundy apparel.

He grimaced, his forehead wrinkling in a way which made the flecks of gray seem to stand out more in his hair. (They had had that conversation already, of course. "Aren't you a bit young to go gray, Wills?" she had asked. He had given his usual snort of a laugh, pursing his lips at her. "Maybe, but clearly _someone's_ driving me gray." Carmen had not apologized.)

"I hope you checked before opening the door just now."

Carmen smiled sweetly. "I hope there's a reason you're so late."

Wills was silent for a moment, pushing his way past her and settling on the stool by her desk. "What if I had been found out? Arrested? Killed on my way here? What if _that_ had been why I was late? And the same people who got me had been knocking on your door?" Even in the dim light of Carmen's room, she could see the gold flashing in his brown eyes.

Carmen gave him a pointed look, not breaking eye contact until she had flumped back down on her bed in the corner. Wills stern expression did not falter. She sighed. "Next time I'll be sure to check the peep hole. _Now_ will you tell me what kept you?"

Wills opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to unleash a lecture, but closed it again promptly. "Good news. I got word from my ear in the capital -- it seems the king will soon move to abdicate."

Carmen folded her arms. "So the Lakwuer princess will be taking the throne."

"That's right."

"And this is _good_ news?" Her eyes narrowed. "That she'll become queen, and be all the more public, and all the more well protected and guarded — is _good_ news?"

A grin spread over Wills lips. It was curious how _thin_ everything about him was — his lips sat below a slim ridge of a nose, and above his eye he raised his dark sliver of an eyebrow.

"Carmen, I'm disappointed. Don't you remember the Lakwuer tradition for assumption of the throne?"

His smug face was beginning to annoy her. She rolled her eyes. "They let free two doves, and shoot one. It means something about fate. Or chance. Or something. Why can't you just tell me what you're driving at instead of making me guess?"

Wills sighed, and for a brief instant the look of a petulant child deprived of its favorite toy passed over his face, but he gathered himself together quickly enough. "Yes, if you've got a properly married heir ascending the throne. But the princess is not married, and word has it there won't be time to find an eligible suitor before the king abdicates. So what does our current heir, with no spouse to guide and steady her, prepare herself for all the strenuous complexities of rule?" He looked at her expectantly.

"Get some really good advisors?" Carmen suggested impatiently, but her foul mood could not dampen Wills excitement.

"She must meditate. Alone. For one full cycle of the moon."

Those words sent an electric shock through the air. For the first time in years, Carmen could feel her heart beginning to pound, to race, seeming to well up into her throat.

"When you say alone, you mean...?"

"Still guarded, of course, but nobody is permitted within a mile radius of the her." Wills stood, stepping slowly to Carmen's bedside and lying a hand on her shoulder. "We finally have it, Carmen. Our opening."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick update! because I won't be able to make another until I finish editing my thesis. tragedy. (thank you for reading!)

Carmen's earliest memories were of dust, smoke, and heat. Wills came in the morning and the evening with food, never staying longer than a few minutes. Huddled in the corner of the room, Carmen would watch all day as the other man hammered away at the red-hot glowing metal. Grimy as his hands were, they seemed to work magic, rending misshapen lumps into sleek blades. He never spoke to her (for Wills he would manage a few grunts), barely acknowledging she was there. On rare occasions their eyes would meet. At those times, without changing his expression, the man would whack his hammer down on whatever he was working on, sending a spray of brilliant sparks dancing through the air. Each time he did this, Carmen giggled uncontrollably. The sparks looked like little fairies fleeing the area. The man would then bring one stout finger up to his mouth -- _shhh, shhh_ \-- although behind his bushy mustache, there had been a trace of a smile. That was the most vivid image of him, which lingered clearest in Carmen's mind. 

She never found out his name. She just awoke one day, and found that the heat was gone, and with it the light. She had squinted her eyes, trying to force shapes out of the darkness. Gradually, she made out the huddled form of a body slumped over the forge. What a strange place for the man to be sleeping. He still had not woken when the corner door opened and Wills bustled in, carrying a large empty sack over one arm, and a small set of travel wear over the other. He had tossed the latter over to her.

"Change into this. We're leaving." Without further explanation, he began shoving the blades the man had made into the bag. Carmen had changed warily, eyes on the man sleeping by the forge. The blades clinked and clattered against the walls as Wills grabbed, but the other man still slept soundly. Once dressed, she plodded cautiously over to Wills, giving his trouser sleeve a light tug. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Should we wake him up to say goodbye?" she asked, gesturing at the man. Wills blinked, slowly furrowing his brow. He sidestepped over to the other man, and as he reached down, Carmen thought he was going to shake him awake. But instead, his arm passed the man's shoulder and slid under his chest. With a sharp jerk, he pulled his arm out again. One very tiny knife clasped in his fingers. He wiped the red off on the man's tunic.

"He's dead. Let's go."

 

* * *

 

 

Carmen had remained silent for much of the day, eyes squinted against the blaring sunlight. Wills made no attempt to talk to her, though his arms carefully steadied her on the horse whenever she started to lean one way or the other with drowsiness. They stopped only when they had gotten deep into a forest, at a tree with roots as tall as Carmen herself. (They were probably not so terribly large in reality, Carmen could concede. They likely only seemed that way in a child's eye.) Wills had hoisted her off the horse and placed her on the mossy ground. After tying up the horse, he sat beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked. She shook her head. "It's your seventh birthday." Carmen simply blinked at him, the significance failing to register. Wills had sighed. (At the time she didn't recognize his expression, but considering the situation, she now assumed it must have been something along the lines of pity.) Reaching around his belt, he pulled out the same small knife from before, handing it to her. In her small grip it felt almost as powerful as a sword.

"Seven is when boys in your family used to start their martial training, so I don't see why it oughtn't be the same for you."

Carmen was silent, staring at the blade for a long while. At length, she said, "This is the one you took out of that man."

"Yes."

"This is why he was dead, wasn't it?" She looked up at him as she asked it.

"Yes. It was stabbed in his heart. The heart keeps blood moving in your body. If you stop it, a person can't live."

"Wills."

"Yes?"

"Am I going to be doing that? Stabbing people?"

Maybe she had sounded distressed, but that hadn't been the case. Carmen could still remember her feelings at the time. Namely, that she was so small; that that man had been so big; that Wills had had to pull so hard just to remove the knife. And now _she_ was going to be stabbing people? How on earth would that ever work?

But Wills had misread her back then. He had put his arm over her shoulder, brow furrowed, frowning at her. (That face must have been sympathy, she now reasoned.)

"You will be delivering justice. A blow for each blow the Lakwuers struck against you."

 

 

 

 


End file.
